


she will not be unmade

by sternflotte



Series: winter is coming [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Elia Martells story might be the shittiest in the entire series, Gen, Tourney at Harrenhal, and i am a sucker for angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflotte/pseuds/sternflotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a Princess of Dorne, and a Princess of Westeros. She will not be unmade by her husband's actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she will not be unmade

Elia laughed as Oberyn makes a snide comment about whoever was jousting just then.

“You are cruel, brother dearest.” Elia tells him. He grins at her and then winces as Rhaenys grabs for his hair.

“Little niece of mine!” Oberyn cries out in jest. “Don't rid your handsome uncle of his most handsome feature.”

“Handsome?” Elia laughs. “Surely not, brother.”

“Obba.” Rhaenys proclaims loudly, reaching out to Oberyn. Elia laughs, almost unable to breathe. Her brother's expression when Rhaenys called him 'Obba' still is funnier than any court jester. Elia hands her daughter over to her brother, who coos at his niece, touching her little nose with his finger.

“Well, little niece. How long will you continue to call me that?” Oberyn asks Rhaenys softly. She stares up at him as adoringly as little girls can and Elia smiles at the sight.

“Aunt Elia!” Doran's little girl tugs at the sleeve of her dress with excitement. “Look! Rhaegar is riding!”

Elia looks to the side where indeed Rhaegar sits in his impressive dark armor on top of his horse. His challenger, Ser Barristan, was also ready to begin. Elia shushes Oberyn as the two begin to ride.

Elia holds her breath and the two lances hit their target. Rhaegar wobbles for a moment, but ultimately stays on his horse. Both return to their starting positions and ready themselves for the second round.

Again, both charge at each other. Viserys takes Elia's hand and squeezes tightly as Ser Barristan's lance hits Rhaegar. Rhaegar's breaks as it hits Ser Barristan in the chest and the valiant knight loses his balance and falls off his horse.

The crowd roared for Rhaegar. “Good job.” Oberyn mutters under his breathe. Viserys is jumping up and down in excitement, clapping loudly.

“And the winner of the Joust is Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall.” the herald announces. Rhaegar moves to pick up the crown of flowers from the herald and moves towards them.

Rhaenys starts whining then, and Elia holds her daughter close to her chest as she watches Rhaegar ride his horse towards them. She smiles at him as he approaches.

“What is that idiot doing?” Oberyn hisses, as Rhaegar makes no attempt to slow and he rides past them. Elia can hear the gasps of shock from all around. She can hear Aerys cackle from behind her and her own heart is beating in her chest.

Rhaegar comes to a stop before the Northern Party. He extends the blue wreath of flowers on his lance and plants it on the lap of Lord Stark's daughter. The girl – Lyanna, Elia remembers suddenly – stares at Rhaegar with wide eyes. She had not been watching him as he had written past Elia, joking with her oldest brother, the one who was now being restrained by two northerners and who had an expression of undeniable anger on his face.

Rhaegar turns his horse around and has it go back to his tent.

The entire crowd is silent, but for a few titters here and there. Elia carefully composes her face into an impassive expression. Lyanna Stark still looks bewildered as she carefully touches the wreath on her lap to reassure herself this is real.

“Look at the Baratheon boy.” Oberyn hisses at her. Elia looks over to Robert Baratheon, she remembers now that Lyanna Stark is his betrothed. He is fuming, head red as blood and he glares at the wreath in Lyanna Stark's lap.

Brandon Stark looks similarly furious. He has one hand on his sister's arm and hisses into her ear. The poor girl looks mortified.

“Oberyn. Let's leave.” Elia tells her brother. She stands up, tugging Arianne up with her. Oberyn scoops Rhaenys out of her arms and together they leave their seats. “We are going to my rooms.”

Oberyn stays quiet in face of her anger. She knows he must be furious at Rhaegar, but to his credit he stays with her, to comfort her.

“What did Rhaegar do?” Arianne asks her quietly as she tries to keep up with her fast gait. “Why is everyone so angry?”

“Nothing, my sweet.” Elia tells her niece. “I am just not feeling so well. We shall go back to my rooms. Your father will pick you up later. Alright, dove?”

Arianne nods and follows Elia and Oberyn into the dark burnt Harrenhal Castle. They move as quickly as possible to Elia's rooms, not stopping to talk to anyone, no matter how many people make attempts to speak with her.

“How dare he?” Oberyn bursts as soon as they close the door behind them and have excused all maids and servants. “He insults our house, our honor. He insults you! How can you be so calm in the face of this, sister?”

“I am not.”

“How has the Northern Whore bewitched him?” Oberyn snarls. “How dare he?”

Rhaenys starts crying and Oberyn falls silent to shush the girl. Elia turns to Arianne, who stares at her uncle with wide eyes. “Arianne, sweetling, will you take Rhaenys and go next door?”

“Why?” Arianne asks.

“I need to talk to your uncle.”

“Okay.” Arianne takes Rhaenys with two shaky arms and carries her over to the door. Elia quickly opens it for the little girl and closes it as soon as the two girls have disappeared behind it.

“We have to-” Oberyn starts.

“Listen, brother.” Elia hisses at Oberyn, temper flaring. “You will be quiet. I will not have you insult my husband in front of his daughter.”

“Elia! That bastard has probably been sleeping with that Northern Bitch behind your back for years.” Oberyn snarls. “He has insulted you! How can you stand for this?”

“I don't!” Elia approaches her brother, with blood rushing to her face. “I am angry, Oberyn! But honestly? What can I do?”

“I will kill him! For you!” Oberyn reaches for his sword and Elia laughs bitterly.

“Why?” Elia asks. “Rhaegar wouldn't be the first to be dishonest. What choice does a woman have? She can protest and be hated by her husband forever, or she can keep quiet and hate her husband forever.”

“In Dorne-” Oberyn starts.

“This isn't Dorne, Oberyn. Do not forget. We are in the North and the Northerners do things differently than we do.”

“But-”

“But what Oberyn? So, you kill Rhaegar. What then?” Elia asks him bitterly. “You are arrested for Kingslaying? Doran has give up his Prince-ship. I probably will be killed, for being your sister. Rhaenys, what about her? She will grow up a bastard? Without a mother, or a father, just because her stupid uncle couldn't face an insult.”

“Elia.”

“I thought you were a viper, Oberyn. Isn't that your nickname?” Elia asks him, seeing her words are impacting him. “The Red Viper. Come to kill the Prince, just because he did what every man on this planet has done before.”

“Then you to talk to him, Elia.”

“I will, brother. I will.” Elia promises him. She puts her hand on Oberyn's cheek and smiles. “Calm down, brother.”

She can feel him watching her as she opens the door to her bedroom. Arianne is playing with Rhaenys, giggling as Rhaenys grabs at her repeatedly.

“Is everything alright?” Arianne asks, with all the earnest empathy of a five year old girl.

“Everything is great, sweetling.” Elia reassures her niece. She picks up Rhaenys, who gurgles and smiles at her mother. “Now, let's go ensure that your uncle won't do anything idiotic.”

Elia drops both Rhaenys and Arianne in Oberyn's lap, ensuring the girls will keep their uncle busy. Elia slips out of the rooms as soon as Oberyn is preoccupied and makes her way to Rhaegar's rooms.

“Ser Rodrik, Ser Damion.” Elia greets the two knights, who stand watch before Rhaegar's room. Both knights look at her uncomfortably, but make way so Elia can enter.

Her husband is sitting at his desk, composing some kind of letter. He had not realized she had entered the room.

She introduces herself with a quiet knock to the door. “Rhaegar.” He turns around and looks at her with a blank expression. Oh how she wishes to see something there, anything. Any sign that he is sorry for slighting her. Anything to tell her why he did this.

“Elia. What are you doing here?” Rhaegar asks her after a short while.

Elia grits her teeth as she approaches her husband. “You ass.” Elia hits Rhaegar in the chest as hard as she can. “You absolute ass!”

“Elia!” Rhaegar catches her hands and holds them away from himself. “What in the name of the gods are you doing?”

“You are an imbecile.” Elia tells him angrily. “Angering the entire north? Shaming that poor girl? She is fourteen years old!”

“This is not your place.” Rhaegar tells her sharply and angrily. “Leave it, Elia.”

“This isn't -” Elia stops sharply. She stares into her husbands face. “Take care, husband. Do not presume that Dorne will face your insults.”

“What are you saying, Elia?” Rhaegar asks her quietly.

Elia sighs. “Good night, husband. We shall speak in the morrow.”

He says nothing as she leaves his room. Rhaegar's guards watch her pass as she composes herself. No one can see her in this state. She is a Princess of Dorne, and a Princess of Westeros. She will not be unmade by her husband's actions.


End file.
